


Bad Spaghetti

by Candyjar



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 15:44:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5253884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Candyjar/pseuds/Candyjar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Papyrus discovers that his cooking isn't as great as he thought it was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Spaghetti

**Author's Note:**

> Aaa, almost 100 kudos?? Thank you! I'm glad so many people liked this ;v; <3

Papyrus sat at the table and popped the top off of the container of spaghetti, twirling the noodles on his fork and preparing to enjoy himself. Sometimes he’d eat the leftover spaghetti himself, though he left it in there for Sans. Sans usually never ate it, though, and Papyrus didn’t want it to go to waste. Besides, if he left it, there’d be no room in his food museum for newer additions.  
  
When he put the forkful in his mouth, he was met with an unpleasant surprise—it tasted terrible. He spat it out and inspected the container. It didn’t seem to have been compromised, but perhaps he was wrong. After all, it was his cooking, and he remembered the day he’d cooked it like it was yesterday. It’d been a good batch.  
  
He shrugged and threw the spaghetti away, a little upset at the amount that had been wasted, and brushed it off. Then he retrieved another, more recent container, and heated it up.  
  
This one, too, tasted awful.  
  
After going through a few more containers and becoming increasingly frustrated, he finally took out the most recent unfinished batch, which had been from about a week ago. He took a bite and while it didn’t taste quite as bad as the others, it wasn’t exactly good, either.  
  
He sat quietly, hands clasped and brows as furrowed as they could be, thinking. They couldn’t be spoiled, as he’d cooked these with monster ingredients only, not the human ones. While he sometimes made human spaghetti, he liked to stay traditional most of the time. These weren’t spoiled, they were just…bad. But why? They hadn’t tasted that awful when he’d first made them.  
  
Recently he’d been experimenting with different spices in different amounts, and with different techniques, and both Sans and Frisk seemed to think he’d been improving. Perhaps the reason why they tasted so bad was because he was just that much better. He was just increasing in skill, and thus his previous dishes tasted less like masterpieces and more like garbage. Right?  
  
As he thought to himself, though, he began to put the pieces together. Was it possible that they tasted bad because they simply…were? Was it possible that he wasn’t good at cooking, and his recent improvement had suddenly made that obvious to his lack of tastebuds?  
  
But no, that couldn’t be…after all, everyone loved his cooking. Frisk, Sans, Undyne, Toriel, Asgore…they’d all agreed that he was a master chef. They couldn’t have been lying to him, right?  
  
Ten minutes of deep thought later, Sans strolled into the room and scanned it with his white pupils, taking in the scene. A large, sloppy pile of containers of spaghetti spilling out of the garbage can. An open fridge that was practically empty. An unhappy Papyrus who was sitting quietly at the table, his stone-faced skull glaring down at another container of spaghetti.  
  
“Uhh…hey bro,” Sans greeted, stepping closer. “What’s uh…what’s going on here?”  
  
“Sans,” Papyrus began. “If I ask you a question, will you be honest with me?”  
  
“Of course, bro. Shoot.”  
  
“Do you like my spaghetti?”  
  
Sans was quiet for a moment, his grin forced. “W-why would you even ask, bro? You know I do.”  
  
“Then why are you always eating at Grillby’s?” Papyrus asked.  
“Well uh—“  
“Why do you never eat the leftovers I put aside for you?”  
“I—“  
“Why am I always finding your spaghetti under the table after dinner?”  
“I’m just messy! You know me, bro.” Sans chuckled nervously, beads of sweat gathering on his skull.  
  
Papyrus glared at him intensely, a look that seemed out of place and vaguely frightening on the chipper skeleton. Sans cleared his throat, or at least made a similar noise.  
  
“Okay, look, Pap…it’s not that I don’t like it, it’s just…” Sans said, trailing off.  
  
He didn’t want to hurt his brother’s feelings, but it was obvious he couldn’t avoid the truth much longer. Papyrus’s expression shifted to a sad one, which practically broke Sans’ heart right then and there.  
  
Sans scratched at his arm through his heavy blue hoodie. “You’ve, uh, been getting a lot better lately!”  
  
Papyrus didn’t respond, and the room was silent for a moment.  
  
“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Papyrus asked quietly, finally breaking the silence.  
  
“I…didn’t want to hurt your feelings, is all.”  
  
“So you just suffered through my terrible cooking for years? If you’d told me I could’ve changed things up sooner, I could’ve tried out new methods and… there’s such a thing as constructive criticism, Sans!”  
  
“I know, I just… you were so excited about your cooking, and I didn’t want to mess with your self-esteem, and—“  
  
“I’m not a child, Sans. I can handle it,” Papyrus sighed. “It upsets me that you just let me practically force feed you for so long. You should have told me.”  
  
Sans kicked at the floor, rubbing the back of his head. “I know. I’m sorry. But I meant it when I said you were getting better! It’s honestly not bad.”  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
It was quiet again, the atmosphere tense. Papyrus sighed and dragged his bony hand down his face. “From now on, please be honest with me, okay? We’re brothers, and I’m an adult. I can handle the truth.”  
  
“I will,” Sans nodded, lying. “And I really am sorry, Paps.”  
  
Papyrus smiled, the intensity in his expression melting away. “You are forgiven, brother!”  
  
He scooped Sans up in a big, bone-crushing hug that lasted a few minutes too long before finally dropping him back on the floor. Sans rubbed at his back, thanking his one hitpoint for hanging in there.  
  
“In turn, I too will be honest with you!” Papyrus said, putting his hands on his hips. “For example: I hate your puns and I wish you would stop.”  
  
“I already knew that, but I’ll try not to be too bothered by it,” Sans replied, a grin engulfing his face. “After all, if I have to be honest with you, then I definitely want you _tibia_ -nest with me!”  
  
And with that, Papyrus’s smile fell off of his face and crawled away, never to be seen again.

**Author's Note:**

> imagine: an AU where i am good at writing


End file.
